


This Feeling I Can't Change

by amirosebooks



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Graceless Castiel, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pining, Season/Series 09
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-28
Updated: 2017-03-28
Packaged: 2018-10-12 04:23:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10481997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amirosebooks/pseuds/amirosebooks
Summary: Set during season 9 with graceless!Cas and hurt!Dean. An almost first kiss, some pining and feelings.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this while watching season 9. I meant to include it in a 5 + 1 almost first kisses fic series, but I got distracted by a longer fic I'm working on now. I'll edit this in the future if I do end up finishing the other ficlets I'd wanted to write for it.
> 
>  
> 
> You can find me on tumblr: http://amirosebooks.tumblr.com/

The nurse scribbled on Dean’s chart for a moment before clicking her pen closed. She looked up at Dean with a wide smile.

“You ready to get out of here?” she asked.

Dean attempted to smile back, but knew it probably looked more like a grimace. His ribs and jaw ached from where the monster of the week they’d fought the day before had cold-cocked him. The cut on his forehead throbbed in time with his pulse.

“Absolutely,” Dean said adding an extra layer of joy into his voice that he didn’t really feel.

“Go ahead and get dressed.” She pointed to the duffle sitting on a chair below the window that Sam brought by earlier that day. “I’ll send someone in with a wheelchair and your discharge paperwork soon.”

“Thanks,” Dean said.

As she slipped out the door of his hospital room, another figure came in. The nurse gave Castiel an even wider smile as she passed him by. Dean looked away before he could see if Castiel returned it or not. He heard the door click shut.

Dean sat up on the bed slowly. He turned so his feet hung over the side of the hospital bed. It was raised up high enough that he could kick his feet back and forth above the cold tile floor. Something about being able to do that always reminded him of his blink-and-you-miss-it childhood.

He shook his head and winced at the spike of pain the movement drew out of the cut on his forehead. He gritted his teeth and clenched the edge of the mattress tight. His scabbed over knuckles and tan fingers stood out in stark contrast from the white sheets.

The tips of Castiel’s shoes moved into Dean’s line of sight. He closed his eyes and let his head fall farther forward. He’d spent hours mentally building himself up for a scolding conversation with Sam, who was supposed to pick him up from the hospital, he wasn’t prepared to deal with Castiel right now.

“Where’s Sammy?” Dean asked. His voice sounded rougher than he preferred.

The hospital tile was white with streaks of gray in it. Something industrial and easy to clean up. He studied the floor like it was a new exorcism he’d yet to master.

“He's meeting with the coroner again,” Castiel said. “There was another murder early this morning.”

Dean gripped the mattress edge tighter.

“Damnit,” he cursed.

“It's not your f—”

“Don't,” Dean said as he finally tore his attention from the floor to Castiel’s pitying eyes. “Don't you dare tell me it isn't my fault. If I hadn't let that son of a bitch get the drop on me we would have ganked its ass like we were supposed to and someone else wouldn't be dead right now!”

“We all failed, Dean,” Castiel said. “Our mistakes do not rest solely on your shoulders.”

“You know what?” Dean said. His mouth twisted and a quiet, distant voice at the back of his head started yelling at him to shut up, to stop. “You’re right. I wasn’t the only one who fucked up yesterday. You and Sammy should have left me there and finished the bastard off. You two let him get away instead of doing your jobs.”

“You really expected us to leave you there?” Castiel hissed.

“Yes, Cas,” Dean said. “That’s exactly what I expected you to do. That’s what I wanted you to do so that more people wouldn’t be dead right now.”

Castiel stared at Dean for a long moment. Dean could see emotions pass through Castiel’s eyes like headlights on a highway at midnight. Part of Dean wished he could find it in himself to soothe the pain streaking across Castiel’s face. Part of him wished they did more than fight lately.

At least he wasn’t in a dark enough place to wish that Castiel had never pulled him from Hell today.

“You nearly died, Dean,” Castiel in a voice that was almost too quiet to hear. He said it like it made up for any of the blood on Dean’s hands.

Dean huffed out a bitter laugh.

“Just another Tuesday in the life of Dean Winchester,” he said with a cocky grin and an ache in his chest.

Castiel’s eyes narrowed and sparked with anger.

Dean’s pulse picked up. He was thankful the nurse had removed the heart rate monitor from his finger. Shame boiled in his stomach when he realized he was glad Castiel was graceless and couldn't sense Dean’s reaction. He'd stopped trying to figure out for himself if his heart raced because Castiel’s anger scared him or whether it was something… else.

Castiel turned away and started fussing with the duffel bag. Dean opened his mouth then dropped his head again when he couldn't find anything more than angry words on his tongue. Castiel’s shoulders curled forward. He stood there motionless with his hands buried in the duffle.

“Cas?”

Castiel growled. He spun in place and threw a flannel shirt at Dean. It bounced off Dean's chest and landed on the bed beside him.

“What the hell, Cas?”

“You're a selfish ass,” Castiel said. “You're always right there ready to sacrifice yourself and you never think about those of us who are trying to save you.”

“It’s my job,” Dean said, his voice cracked over the last word.

Castiel closed the space between them and grabbed a fistful of Dean’s hospital gown. He tugged Dean so they were eye to eye. Nose to nose. Breath tangling in the humid air between them. Close enough to make Dean’s soul ache.

“That’s bullshit and you know it, Dean,” Castiel said in the deep, threatening tone he usually saved for threatening demons before he ran them through with his angel blade. “It is not your job to die.”

Dean swallowed against the lump in his throat.

“Cas, I…” Dean didn’t know what to say.

“Stop, Dean,” Castiel whispered. “Stop making me fight with you. Stop trying to run back to hell or heaven or purgatory somewhere else I can’t reach you in anymore.”

Castiel’s expression crumbled as his voice cracked. Dean let go of the mattress and reached out to hold Castiel’s hand that wasn’t still fisted in Dean’s hospital gown. He coaxed Castiel’s fingers to relax from the tight fist he had them in.

“I don’t want to fight with you,” Dean said in the lowest whisper he could manage. He barely heard himself speak. He wasn’t positive the words didn’t rattle around in his mind like so many other words he didn’t have the courage to send out through his lips into the world.

Castiel leaned forward so their forehead’s were touching. Dean didn’t know which of them moved first to intertwine their fingers. Castiel let go of Dean’s hospital gown and reached up to cup the side of Dean’s neck. His thumb rubbed against Dean’s jaw with a touch so soft you could only call it a caress.

“I don’t want to fight with you either,” Castiel whispered back.

Dean closed his eyes and turned into Castiel’s touch.

The sounds and smells of the hospital around them faded away. If it weren’t for the draft at the back of his hospital gown and the knowledge that Castiel couldn’t fly them away right then, Dean could almost believe they were back at the bunker. He could almost believe that it was an inevitability for the gap of air between their lips, their bodies, to melt away. He could almost let himself believe he could keep this moment for a lifetime.

Castiel’s cellphone trilled in the pocket of the similar, but nowhere near the same tan trench coat Dean bought for him after the fall.

Castiel’s warm breath passed over Dean’s lips and chin as Castiel sighed in frustration. He let go of Dean’s hand and fumbled in his pocket to retrieve his phone. Dean almost let himself believe that Castiel’s grip on Dean’s neck tightened a bit before he let go and stood up straight.

“What?” Castiel said in a rough voice when he answered his phone. “Yes Sam, I’m at the hospital now. They’re letting him go as soon as he gets changed.”

Dean turned away from Castiel who was staring at the far wall with the blank soldier expression he defaulted to when he needed something to hide behind. Dean reached behind himself to undo the laces at the back of the hospital gown. The bruising on his ribcage was fading from purples to greens. He tossed the hospital gown onto the poor excuse for a pillow on his right and picked up the flannel Castiel had thrown at him earlier. There was a t-shirt wrapped up in it, but Dean didn’t have the energy for putting on his usual layers today. He just wanted to be covered and on his way back to the bunker as soon as possible. That meant getting dressed and getting back to ganking the son of a bitch that had put him in the hospital.

“We’ll meet you at the motel,” Castiel said before he hung up the phone and slipped it back into his pocket. He crossed the room to the duffle again and pulled out more clothes for Dean. This time he placed them gently on the bed within Dean’s reach instead of throwing them at him. “I’m going to check in with your nurse to see what is taking so long.”

Dean nodded.

He did not watch Castiel walk out of the hospital room. He finished buttoning his blue and green flannel and did not let himself rub at the ache in his chest.

The door opened again as Dean finished lacing up his boots. Castiel was glaring at the orderly with the wheelchair like glaring would make the man move faster. Dean bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from grinning.

“You ready to go?” the orderly asked as he moved the wheelchair next to the chair where Dean had moved to so he could put his boots on.

“All set,” Dean said.

He stood up long enough to turn before settling into the wheelchair. He hated these things, but he’d spent more than enough of his lifetime in hospital beds across the country. He’d learned long ago that if they couldn’t sneak out of the hospital without anyone noticing and had to wait for an official discharge from the staff that the exit had to happen in a wheelchair. It wasn’t worth fighting over anymore.

Castiel grabbed the duffel bag and followed them out of the room. Dean’s spirits lifted as the elevator reached the ground floor and the glass doors leading out of the hospital came into view. His high spirits crashed and burned when he saw the white economy rental car that unlocked with the push of a button in Castiel’s hand.

“What the hell is that?” Dean asked as the orderly rolled Dean closer to the bland monstrosity.

Dean could practically feel Castiel rolling his eyes as the man opened the back door of the car and tossed the duffel bag in the backseat.

“Sam is driving your car,” Castiel said as he closed the back door and opened the front passenger one. Dean started to sputter in protest, but was silenced when Castiel turned his glare on Dean. Castiel motioned for the orderly to wheel Dean over to the open door. Dean stood up from the wheelchair, but froze in place as he contemplated the pros and cons of walking back to the motel from here. “Get in the damn car, Dean.”

Dean moved to sit in the car automatically. Castiel swearing was still a rare enough occurrence to make Dean a bit nervous and a bit… other things that he wasn’t going to study to closely. Castiel closed the door with a dissatisfying, hollow thud. Dean grumbled to himself about stupid new plastic and aluminum cars as Castiel thanked the orderly and made his way around to the driver’s side.

Dean refused to admit that the new car seats were comfortable. Or the feeling of a heater that worked almost immediately after the car turned on was a good thing. If he allowed himself to melt back against the headrest with his head turned towards Castiel it was just because he was still feeling the effects of the painkillers the nurse gave him this morning.

It was a little embarrassing, even in his current state, how long it took him to recognize the music playing from the car stereo. That had nothing to do with the fact that Dean kept the Impala’s old stereo speakers as close to the stock ones from when she was new as possible every time he rebuilt her which kept her sound quality pretty low. There were more speakers of different sizes in this newer car that made different parts of the music audible. Just because the Impala’s stereo couldn’t handle the different tones meant nothing.

“Freebird?” Dean asked with a laugh.

Castiel’s lips twitched into a ghost of a smile, but he didn’t look away from the road.

“I suspected you would not be happy with the car the rental company had available,” Castiel said. Dean grunted in agreement. “I brought one of your cassettes with me.” Castiel frowned as he glanced at the dashboard between them. “This car does not seem to have a cassette player. The rental car man was not helpful when I asked him how I was supposed to play the cassette in this car. He suggested I ‘join the modern world’ and use something called an mp3 player or find a CD.”

Dean laughed.

“You went out an bought a Lynyrd Skynyrd CD just to use it in the rental car to pick me up?” Dean asked.

“Yes,” Castiel said as if it was an obvious choice. “I would have reached the hospital much earlier this morning, but it was very hard to find somewhere that sold these… CDs.”

“Thank you,” Dean said.

He felt warm all over like he always did when Castiel did ridiculous, thoughtful things like this. He closed his eyes and let the song wash over him. It was one that always reminded him of Castiel. Sometimes in reinforced his bitter thoughts toward the angel, other times it echoed his heart breaking, today it motivated him to help Castiel get his grace back so his angel could fly again.


End file.
